


The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing

by eerian_sadow



Series: Species Imperative [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Community: prowlxjazz, Fluff, M/M, unrepetant fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparring with Jazz is like a dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wicked3659](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/gifts).



> many thanks to wicked3659 for giving me the prompt for this and many more for her beta job on it.

Prowl slipped silently into the training room, optics locked onto the silver form dominating the floor. The small mech was a flurry of graceful motion, moving so fluidly that his match looked more like dancing than sparring. Jazz's opponent went down quickly, overwhelmed by the speed of the silver mech's blows. The mech on the floor laughed as he yielded, complimenting the smaller mech's ability.

It was a deadly speed and grace that Prowl knew he could watch all cycle.

After his first opponent left the training floor, Jazz turned to the spectator stand with a brilliant smile on his face. "C'mon, Prowl. Dance with me."

Prowl hesitated for a moment. He was trained in hand to hand combat, but his specialties had always been in other, less hands-on areas and he doubted his practice exercises would give him anything close to the fluid grace Jazz had just displayed.

He couldn't back down without losing face in front of the crew, though. Between that knowledge and that beautiful smile, Prowl's decision was already made. He stepped out of the stands and onto the training floor and bowed to his opponent.

Jazz mirrored him, smile still fixed firmly on his face. Then the silver mech struck, quick as a razor snake and with as much deadly potential. Prowl blocked and countered, and the match escelated as quickly as it had begun.

Prowl was a blur of white, black and red as he punched, kicked or blocked. Jazz was a streak of silver as he dodged, wove and occasionally jumped. The match lasted nearly five joors, with mechs gathering from every corner of the base to watch.

And it ended abruptly as Prowl took advantage of an opening during one of Jazz's flashy jumps. The tactician wrapped one arm around the saboteur's waist and pulled him close. Jazz hung in the other mech's grasp, pliant but not out of the match if things took a turn to the untoward.

Jazz didn't fight as Prowl lowered his head and pressed a kiss to the silver mech's lips.

The gathered spectators cheered at the sight. Jazz smiled into the kiss and put his arms around Prowl's neck to pull himself closer.


End file.
